


If I Can't Have You...

by tappret43



Category: Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Genre: (sort of??? it isnt sexual but its voyeurism), Accidental Voyeurism, Brad makes his own dating sim, F/M, Holodeck Character, Holodecks/Holosuites, MODESTO, New Yorker Mariner, Pining, This is a Bee Gees songfic if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tappret43/pseuds/tappret43
Summary: Ensign Beckett Mariner had been known to various members, allies, and enemies of Starfleet as many things: a real bro, a drinking buddy, a no-good slacker, a worthy combatant, and a cheat, among other things. But never in her eleven years since she first began training at Starfleet Academy had she been known to mind her own business. This was to be no exception.“Computer, load whatever Boimler was just looking at.”Mariner looked around, waiting for the holodeck to shift around her, but after a few moments of nothing, there was an unpleasant buzz, and the system spoke.“Unauthorized parties may not view protected programs.”Protected programs? Mariner knew Boimler was a weird dude, but seriously, who locked their simulations? Whatever Boimler was doing in here was more than just upsetting to him, it was personal. Maybe she should just let this one slide....Obviously she wasn’t about to let this slide.
Relationships: Brad Boimler & Beckett Mariner, Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner
Comments: 29
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to get this up before tomorrow night's episode about the gang doing holodeck shenanigans. My roommate and I cooked up a fun twist on a fake-dating AU involving the holodeck a while back when we fell in love with Boimler/Mariner (Breckett??). We've been planning this for weeks and we lost our minds when we saw the episode promo.
> 
> @CBS all access where's my royalties
> 
> Title based on the song by the Bee Gee's
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Will be updating maybe once a week?
> 
> -Authors Frasier & Niles

It had been a long, trying day, and Beckett Mariner was on her way to unwind in the Cerritos’s holodeck. A half-hour or so in the naked-Olympian gymnasium would do nicely. As her mind prematurely wandered to which machine—or, more precisely, which man on said machine—she would settle her eyes on first, she didn’t notice as an anxious Boimler quickly turned the corner and knocked his chin into her forehead. The two stumbled away from one another, each bringing a hand to their face, Mariner using hers to tenderly rub her forehead, Boimler using his to cover his mouth.

“Hey, watch it, man!” Mariner shot him a dirty look as she moved to side-step past him, but was caught off-guard by his still covering his mouth and avoiding her eyes. Her frown became less angry and more uncomfortable. “Dude, are you okay?”

Boimler pulled his hand down a fraction, met her eyes, looked away, then met them again. “I’m-... I’m… yeah. Yeah! I’m fine. Sorry about… that.” He tucked his now-idle hand into his elbow in the most awkward crossing-of-the-arms Mariner had ever seen. Then he gave her a wobbly smile that screamed, “I am five more seconds of eye-contact away from throwing myself out the airlock.”

_ What the hell was up with him? _ The deep-seated need to meddle within Mariner’s spirit was tempted to press him on it, but for some reason, she decided to go easy on him. Maybe Boimler had had a long day, too.

“Whatever, dude,” she said, before shrugging and walking on past him, turning the corner towards the holodeck.

Oh. She was already there. Was Boimler just coming out of the holodeck? Whatever had him acting so strange must have happened in there. The two had bumped into each other (although maybe not quite so violently) in the past, and it never seemed to shake Boimler as much as just now.

Mariner let herself in, and at once she was surrounded by the darkness and echoing silence of the expansive deck. Out of habit, she called out for the computer to load up the gym. Yet, she still felt the silence, even through the grinding of machines and labored grunts of bodybuilders. Her mind quickly drifted away from the bodies of sweaty, muscular men and toward the memory of one particularly scrawny, nerdy ensign.

The way he had avoided her gaze stuck to her like so much gum on her shoe, if that gum tasted like anxiety and burned through the leather of her shoes until it was digging underneath her skin and making its home in her very flesh. Maybe it wasn’t quite like gum. Nonetheless, it was bothering her relentlessly.

Ensign Beckett Mariner had been known to various members, allies, and enemies of Starfleet as many things: a real bro, a drinking buddy, a no-good slacker, a worthy combatant, and a cheat, among other things. But never in her eleven years since she first began training at Starfleet Academy had she been known to mind her own business. This was to be no exception.

“Computer, load whatever Boimler was just looking at.”

Mariner looked around, waiting for the holodeck to shift around her, but after a few moments of nothing, there was an unpleasant buzz, and the system spoke.

“ _ Unauthorized parties may not view protected programs. _ ”

_ Protected programs? _ Mariner knew Boimler was a weird dude, but seriously, who locked their simulations? Whatever Boimler was doing in here was more than just upsetting to him, it was  _ personal _ . Maybe she should just let this one slide.

She cleared her throat and lowered her voice, preparing to channel her best impression of her mother. Surely Captain Freeman would be authorized to see the simulations. “Computer, I demand access to Ensign Boimler’s programs.”

Obviously she wasn’t about to let this slide.  _ Are you kidding? It’s obvious that if her best sidekick is upset, she should investigate. Yeah, that’s why.  _ Her motives were pure, even if her methods were a bit suspect.

Her voice was a little shaky, not her best performance. She was a bit out of practice, as she hadn’t really had to impersonate her mother since she was living at home, trying to get into the family computer when she’d been grounded.

Mariner winced in anticipation of another loud buzz, but none came. Instead, the loading chime of the computer sounded.

“ _ Welcome, Captain Freeman. Now loading Boimler Confidential 14. _ ”

“Yes!” Mariner grinned and pumped her fist as the deck began to fade. She was bouncing on her feet in anticipation of seeing what had Boimler all wound up, but slowed to a stop when she found herself in… the warp core?

“What’s Boimler doing in here?” she muttered to herself as she looked left and right. The whole place was a mess, isolinear cores falling out of slots and red error lights flashing on most of the panels. She knelt down and picked up a stray chip that she’d nearly stepped on.

“Why the hell would Boimler want to spend his free time just doing his job again? This isn’t a dirty little secret, this is a  _ chore _ . Everybody already knows that weirdo loves it here.” Mariner muttered at the chip in her hand, furrowing her brow at the lost opportunity to snoop.

“Oh great, you found it! Give it here, I found the compartment it goes in.”

Mariner nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her own voice, dropping the chip and whipping around to find another Beckett Mariner standing in front of her.

Okay, a new snooping opportunity has presented itself.

“You okay, bud? Didn’t mean to scare you,” Holo-Mariner said as she moved forward to lay a steadying hand on Real-Mariner’s tricep. Holographic eyes searched her own, and Mariner couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d found something. It wasn’t the first time Mariner had seen herself simulated, but this particular one felt different. It felt  _ intimate _ . Intimate, and  _ extremely _ un-Mariner.

After a few moments of stunned silence from Mariner, Holo-Mariner frowned and released her grip, sliding her hand down Mariner’s arm to hold her hand. “Hey, is everything okay?” The sudden, gentle squeeze of her hand was enough to finally snap Mariner out of her stupor, and she yanked herself away.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” she snapped. Crossing her arms, she looked Holo-Mariner up and down. “Just wasn’t expecting to see  _ you _ here.”  _ Seriously. _ She knew Boimler liked busywork, but why would he make a simulation where he was doing work with Mariner? Mariner was constantly complaining about working in the warp core, and God knew they already worked together plenty. Why simulate it?

“Hey, you heard the captain. I was assigned to warp core duty just like you were.” Holo-Mariner turned away from her and resumed her task of opening up panels and replacing faulty cores. “But to be honest, I’m glad we’re on duty together. It’s nice to know someone who knows the core inside-out is here for when I mess something up.”

Mariner did a double-take. Did she just say it was  _ nice _ that Boimler was a know-it-all? Geez, this simulation really wasn’t anything like her at all.

“Uh, sorry if you didn’t get the memo, but Boimler’s explanations of his ‘technological know-how’ are like as getting a hefty dose of Tetrovaline. The only thing nice about it is how quickly it’ll put you to sleep.”

Holo-Mariner laughed at this, and gave her a sweet smile from over her shoulder. “Don’t say that! You know I could listen to you talk for hours.”

Oh, excellent, she thought Mariner was Boimler. Since he was keeping these programs under lock and passkey, it was no surprise that he hadn’t extended the program to identify the user. The only one talking with Holo-Mariner should have been Boimler himself.

Mariner pursed her lips and thought hard.  _ How much did Boimler know about her? _

Well, she figured, if the computer already thinks she’s Boimler, she may as well see how accurate Brad had gotten her.

“Y’know, I’d actually  _ love _ to hear  _ your _ thoughts on a couple things, Mariner. Can I ask you a couple questions?”

Holo-Mariner raised an eyebrow at her, then gave her a once-over and smirked. “Shoot.”

Mariner furrowed her brow and stared into the carpeted floor, looking for a question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red. You know that. Everybody knows that. It’s why I joined Command.”

Mariner snorted at her own tall tale. To his credit, Boimler didn’t take  _ all _ her bullshit at face value, but he did believe a lot of it. 

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Neapolitan,” Holo-Mariner answered without skipping a beat.

Mariner felt sick just thinking about Neapolitan ice cream. “Umm, try again.”

“I think I know what my favorite ice cream flavor is, Bradward.”

“No, your favorite is spumoni, but nobody ever knows what that is, so whenever you explain it to people, you say it’s got three kinds of ice cream in it, and people  _ think  _ you’re talking about Neapolitan, but it’s a different thing, and it frustrates the hell out of you!” 

Holo-Mariner seemed to freeze up for a moment, _ registering this new data _ , Mariner figured. Her expression fell to nothing, then came back as a surprised smirk. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me, Boimler.”

Mariner rolled her eyes. “Yeah,  _ real _ well, clearly.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “What about me? What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?” Obviously Holo-Mariner didn’t know herself very well, but did Holo-Mariner know more about Brad than real-Mariner did?

“You really want to turn this into a competition? Well, you always say you prefer sorbet because you think it’s better for you, but I’ve seen you ask the replicator for birthday cake soft serve.” The disconnect between Holo-Mariner’s knowing gaze and information she absolutely  _ didn’t  _ know unsettled Mariner. It checked out, Boimler being the flawed goody-two shoes he was, but clearly Boimler had told Holo-Mariner some things he hadn’t told the real Mariner.

Well, since this Mariner-shaped diary had already been opened…. 

“What’s my middle name?”

“Is this the Newlywed’s Game? Your middle name was  _ supposed  _ to be Edward, but your mom’s pain medication was still wearing off when she filled out the form at the hospital, and she smushed together your first and middle names. Instead of Bradley Edward, they ended up with Bradward.” Holo-Mariner kept an amazingly straight face while she recounted the story.  _ Figures _ , Mariner thought.  _ Why would Boimler program this Mariner to laugh at his tragic backstory? _

This simulation clearly wasn’t what Boimler saw when he looked at Mariner. The Mariner he knew would’ve been busting up at his name-fail (and she absolutely  _ was _ ), not avoiding eye contact like she was afraid she’d crossed some boundary. This was the Mariner Boimler  _ wished _ he knew. A Mariner who was polite and caring, who always took him seriously and didn’t make fun of him for loving the warp core more than he loved kissing ass.

_ Christ, did the computer say he had  _ **_fourteen_ ** _ of these programs? _

“Wow, that’s the first time you’ve ever laughed at that story.” Holo-Mariner genuinely looked surprised. “Are you feeling alright, Brad?”

Now that she’d mentioned it, Mariner wasn’t feeling very well. Her unease grew as she felt the hologram’s hyper-realistic affection for Boimler permeate the room. She knew Boimler had a neurotic need for his fellow Starfleet officers to like him, but Mariner never really counted herself among that list. She hadn’t ever thought that he might want her approval too. She was just a slack-off ensign, and sure, she was super cool and impressive, but with all the shit she got from him, she’d assumed Boimler didn’t look up to her at all.

Shit, this whole program was way too much of a mind-fuck.

“Computer, end simulation.”

Standing in the middle of the now dark Holodeck, Mariner ruminated. Still waters really do run deep. Who would have thought that little Boims was thinking about her so much?

There was definitely something strange going on with these programs, she could just feel it. The problem was, how deep did this go? She wanted to investigate, but she felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of diving into what was essentially Boimler’s weird little therapy sessions to do so.

Maybe heading to the bar and grabbing a drink (or three) was a better way to unwind….


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry this took so long. School’s been stressful for both of us, but we’ve found some time during break to add to our opus! Next chapter is just about done too, so the next wait won’t be so long.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Author Frasier

Mariner spent the next week being careful what she said around Boimler. She didn’t tend to spill secrets, but everytime Boimler spoke to her, what she’d seen in the holodeck felt like it was going to burst out of her. She’d been on edge lately, to say the least. Strangely enough, Boimler seemed to be acting a little more natural around Mariner since their initial rendezvous in the hall last week. Maybe the awkwardness of seeing Mariner in person after spending an afternoon pretending to fix the warp core with her hologram had worn off already. Or maybe (and more likely, considering how many programs he had of her) Mariner had genuinely just caught him at a bad time, and he didn’t have any shame regarding his simulations at all. That was all right, though. Mariner had more than enough shame for the both of them.

....And yet the mystery of what could be in those thirteen other programs drew her back to the holodeck. After all, it was her image he was using. Wasn’t she entitled to see what he was using it for? 

Fearing this may become a regular occurrence, she slipped into the holodeck, locked the door, and cleared her throat.

“Computer, Load Boimler Confidential 10.”

In a flash of light, Mariner was now standing in the middle of a crowded street. Stalls lined the sidewalk on either side, with signs proclaiming all manner of delicious food and drink: 

  
  


The location seemed familiar to Mariner, yet she couldn’t place it. It looked suspiciously like Earth, with its yellow sun and blue sky, but all the buildings and people looked so extremely generic and ordinary that Mariner couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in an artificial environment. Had Boimler forgotten to finish this program? But Boimler was a perfectionist, he wouldn’t leave anything this unpolished. It seemed like he had just left in the placeholder assets. Not a cloud in the sky, hardly any signs or graffiti, or anything really to identify or characterize the street, just a plain commercial street. While the sights were bland, the crowd around Mariner didn’t seem to mind, and the street swarmed with humans browsing art and sampling various delicacies from stands and tables. 

Mariner walked over to an adjacent stall advertising “The Spiciest Hatch Chiles in the Galaxy!” “Hey, where am I?” she asked the stall attendant.

The chili lady looked astonished. “Are you kidding? We’re right here in Modesto! This is the Modesto Food and Wine Festival! I roast chilies at the Sunday farmer’s market, haven’t I seen around here before?”

“Oh, I’ve never been to Modesto,” Mariner reflexively responded.

“You sure about that? You’re even wearing an official city shirt.”

Looking down, Mariner saw that instead of her normal Starfleet uniform, she was in fact wearing a lime green t-shirt with “I’m NUTS about Modesto!” emblazoned across her chest. She inwardly groaned. This is such a Boimler shirt.  _ Only he would have this much pride for such a boring-ass town. _

“You must’ve had too many Risan mai-tais honey. Did you come here with anyone who can take you home?”

Suddenly, Holo-Mariner appeared on Mariner’s left. “He’s with me.”

_ Wait why am I here with ‘Boimler?’ _ Mariner thought to herself.  _ I’ve never been to Modesto, and certainly not with the Bradster. Is this some sort of freaky fantasy for him? _

“Come on!” Holo-Mariner said, grabbing Mariner’s arm. “Let’s go get some food! I’m starving, and you promised to show me all of the best eats. Now don’t go back on your word.”

Holo-Mariner giggled and winked at Mariner.  _ That’s weird. _ The sensation of seeing herself, acting so cutesy made Mariner almost exit the program immediately. Sure, she could be cute when she wanted to, but that was reserved for special occasions.  _ Can’t let people get used to you being all sweet, or else it won’t be a pleasant surprise when it happens. _ She noticed that Holo-Mariner was also wearing a dumb t-shirt, this one reading, “Nobody’s Got Modesto’s Goat” (with a picture of a goat underneath, how original).  _ Modesto is so boring, their novelty t-shirts aren’t even that clever. _

“Where should we start with our gastronomic journey? Youtiao? Darvot fritters? Or maybe some fresh boiled crab legs? Ooh, you were talking about some really fresh organic locally grown celery! I want to see how peppery it really is…” Holo-Mariner chattered on as she dragged Mariner through the crowd.

“Did you know that Modesto’s original slogan was ‘Water Wealth Contentment Health?’ Of course, they changed it after the nuclear superdrought, but you can still see it on some signs and official seals and whatnot.”

Okay, Holo-Mariner knew  _ way _ too much about this shitty little town. When he was designing this program, Boimler must have been torn between wanting to be a know-it-all tour guide and wanting somebody else to finally know what obscure Modesto bullshit he was talking about. Mariner could sympathize with that, at least. She could swear that in the past week she’d been laughed at  _ at least _ twice for folding her replicated pizza in half before eating it out of habit, despite it hardly having any grease on it. God, did she miss thin, greasy New York pizza….

Maybe that’s what this was. Maybe Boimler was homesick. 

Despite the fact that ‘Brad’ was supposed to be the local expert, Holo-Mariner steered the way to a little stall serving all manner of seafood.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,” Holo-Mariner smirked at Mariner before raising up two fingers. “Two clam chowders, please!”

“Oh no way! It’s been so long since I had–“ Mariner’s giddy smile hit the brakes as she stretched to look over the stall clerk’s shoulder, who had turned around to prepare their bowls. “What, uh, what kind of clam chowder are we talkin’ here?”

Just as Holo-Mariner raised an eyebrow at her, Mariner saw the stall clerk turn around with two sourdough bowls full of white, creamy chowder. Her eyes absolutely lit up.

Holo-Mariner put some credits on the counter and took her own bowl from the clerk. “You think I’d ever let you make me eat Manhattan clam chowder? I’m a loyal New Yorker, but I’m not about to eat hot Clamato.” Both Mariners shuddered and gagged as the phantom taste of the devil’s red liquid passed over their tongues.

“It’s so great that we have so much in common!” Holo-Mariner said.

“Oh you have no idea.” Mariner laughed.

Time went by in a blur. The two Mariners went from stall to stall, sampling many dishes and Mariner was almost surprised that her holo-self was even more adventurous when it came to food than she was. She could keep her own when it came to the drinks, though. About five rounds in, however, Mariner realized that only one of them had a liver and actually had to watch what she was drinking.

“Oh dude look! It’s the statue you were talking about!” Holo-Mariner grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to look at a fountain, upon which the LucasArts Theme Park Memorial Statue was shimmering in the fading daylight.

They sat down together on the edge of the fountain. Holo-Mariner handed Mariner some sort of drink she called a spumoni, but clearly had nothing to do with the tricolor ice cream. Holo-Mariner had obviously adapted the simulation to accommodate the new information from last session, even though it was a bit off the mark. Mariner couldn’t quite place what the drink was exactly, but she really didn’t mind.  _ As long as it tastes good, it’s good enough for me. _

Holo-Mariner turned to Mariner, obviously primed with another ‘fun’ Modesto factoid.

“Did you know, the statue in the center of the fountain here is the one commissioned for the original Star Wars theme park back in the twenty-first century? It survived being melted down for scrap at least a dozen times over the years. Modestans must be proud of their history to preserve it so well and display it so prominently after all these years.”

“I can’t see why it’s that important to save it for so long. They somehow made Jar-Jar look deformed, freaky even. Not at all like he was in the movies. Honestly, I think the people here would be a lot better off forgetting all about the past. It was a bad period of history, notwithstanding the whole theme park thing. They should move on. Try to rebrand. Make a better statue.”

Holo-Mariner shrugged. “It’s your history, Boimler. The past is what defines the present, what defines us. You are made and unmade by the people and events that have gone before you, and we all have to accept to what makes us who we are, even if it’s dumb, or ugly, or even painful.”

“Wait, what does a bronze Gungan have to do with me?”

“It’s not really about the statue, but about what it represents -- Modesto pride! Persistence! Survival against the odds! All that stuff. This is your hometown. Ever so humble, it’s home, or so they say. You are who you are because of this town, and that’s what makes you great. It’s like I always say, you’re the only one who can put the ‘rad’ in Brad.”

“I...You do not say that!” Mariner sputtered indignantly.

Holo-Mariner laughed. “I know.  _ You _ say that. I would say something like, ‘This statue’s so lame. I hate history and learning and talking about feelings. Bleh.’” She stuck out her tongue for emphasis. “...But we both know that’s not true. I’m just cynical because I’m afraid of confronting my own history and accepting that it’s just as lame and messed up as anyone else’s.”

_ Did Brad really think up all of this about her, or was this program reading her mind? _ Mariner had obviously shown what she was thinking on her face, as Holo-Mariner reached out and placed a comforting hand on Mariner’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You look distressed.” she said.

_ It’s ironic _ , she thought for a moment, _ that he’s using me for his holo-therapy _ . God knew the real Mariner was lightyears away from being useful on that front, but if Boimler thought she was cut out for it…. Well, artistic license, she guessed.

Mariner shook her head. “Let’s just get back to our drinks.”

The last golden rays of sun glistened off of George’s head and Jar-Jar’s eyestalks. It was a perfect sunset for just sipping a drink and relaxing. She watched the people streaming along the street, laughing and having a good time. It reminded her of the hustle of home, Maybe it was all the food and alcohol Mariner had just had, but she almost felt a little fond of Modesto now. It was charming, in its own sort of bland way, like an oatmeal raisin cookie.  _ Or like Brad _ , she considered. 

Maybe she should try being a better listener to Boimler. Goodness knows everyone needs someone to listen to them, at least sometimes. Mariner was definitely not about to spill her guts to a computer, especially when she was feeling so tipsy and a little weirded out looking into her own face for so long. No matter how she looked at it, it was both strangely comforting and quite unnerving to see her own face like this.

“Ensign Mariner, report to Deck 2 immediately.” The voice of the computer startled Mariner out of her revery.  _ Shit. _ She’d already spent way too much time in here. Why was it so easy for time to slip away from her in these programs?

“Computer, end simulation.”

As she stepped out of the holo-chamber, Mariner suddenly felt very alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a reminder, this fic is not Episode 9+ compliant. However, it is in keeping with the canon of Star Wars Episodes I-III ;)
> 
> -Author Niles


End file.
